Bound
by whynotitsfun
Summary: Tragedy strikes and when it does, it brings people together. Part of the Good Ship Charloe One Year Challenge. A lot of angst, a little smut and a happy ending, I promise. A long one-shot split up into 6 parts. M for naughtiness and xpost to a03.
1. Bound in Ropes

"I told you this was a bad idea," Miles snapped, speaking in the general direction of where he _thought_ Bass might be.

He didn't know exactly, because he'd been walking with a blindfold and had been for the past hour. They'd been on their way to Austin for a "boy's weekend," a bachelor party of sorts prior to Miles' wedding. They were just a day into their journey when they'd come across evidence of the displace war clan that had been troubling the area for the past several months.

The clan must have been small, because for the most part their raids had been kept to a minimum—going after small traveling parties and leaving the larger trade caravans unmolested. On occasion, a small party would venture into a town in the cover of night and do a little robbing, but that had only happened a few times and for the most part, they left any homeowners that may have been present unharmed.

With Rangers everywhere, it had been amazing that they'd managed to remain undetected for this long. Not that the Rangers hadn't tried—they'd just failed miserably, despite how close to the capital their camp must have been.

Bass had, of course, gotten a wild hair up is ass about tracking. He'd been restless and beyond bored ever since he'd let Miles convince him to "retire" in Willoughby after the war. This at least presented the opportunity for some action, he'd argued. And then he'd whined about how he missed having a good fight every now and then.

His pardon had been contingent on his good behavior. As such, he couldn't even get into so much as a bar fight without risking its revocation. Texas had been quite clear on that one; keep his nose clean or he could find himself swinging from the nearest tree or with the executioner's needle in his arm.

And so, despite his better judgment and the fact that they were only armed with a gun and a blade apiece, Miles had given in to Bass' stupid whim. They'd hidden the wagon just off the road and he'd followed Bass' lead as he'd started to track their "prey." This had been with the understanding that if they actually managed to succeed where the Rangers had failed, they would immediately go get some backup.

Miles had reasoned with Bass that they weren't armed well enough to take on even a small war clan. They were good, but they weren't _that_ good and on top of that they'd both been out of action for six months. If they actually managed to find their main camp, the Rangers would probably be more than happy to let Bass go charging in there like an idiot with them. If anything, they'd consider him an excellent meat shield.

They'd definitely found their trail. Unfortunately, the clan's scouting party must have figured it out. They'd gotten the jump on them. Coming out of nowhere, they'd somehow managed to subdue Bass almost immediately. Miles reminded himself to ask his _brother_ about that one later—if they managed to get out of this in one piece. It had been like Bass hadn't even seen the blow coming…

"You didn't have to go along with it," Bass' voice drifted to Miles from somewhere behind him. "Why is that whenever I suggest something, you blame me because you decided to agree and it goes wrong?"

"Because you're suggestions are always fucking stupid, you idiot!"

"If they're so stupid, then doesn't that make _you_ the idiot for listening to me?"

"Shut up!" One of their captors ordered.

"God, can't we just shoot them now?" another whined.

And yet another spoke up. "My god, it's like dealing with my damned kids."

A fourth one just snickered at that as a voice from well ahead of them called. "Will you stop goofing off and hurry it up? We don't have all day. Someone might actually miss these two morons."

"Not likely. If this is how they always act, they might pay us to keep them—or kill them," Voice number one grumbled under his breath.

Knowing better than to annoy their captors too much, Miles didn't reply to Bass' taunt. It told him what he'd wanted to know at any rate. Bass was about ten feet behind him and to his right. If they kept bickering nonstop, the clansmen would only separate them further—or shoot them with their own weapons and be done with it.

Before they'd been blindfolded, they'd, of course confiscated those. One of the mooks (he thought it might be voice three, but wasn't sure) had been given them for safekeeping. It was obvious that they were only armed with clubs and blades. They hadn't pulled a single firearm during their capture. After the war, guns and ammo had gotten scarce again and more than likely, their guns would go directly to the warlord in charge of the clan.

They walked on for a little while further. They'd been taken off the main road and through the brush just a few minutes prior. Knowing they were getting to far off course, Miles started in again. "God, this is _just_ like you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bass snapped right back.

"You did the same thing in Hartford," Miles told him.

"What about that crap you pulled in Salem, huh?" Bass countered. "Pot and the fucking kettle, pal."

Miles considered this. "Okay, I'll give you that one… but you're still a dick."

He stopped walking then.

"Get moving, asshole," voice one sneered.

"Sure, no problem," Miles said—right before he charged the guy, ramming him right in the gut. Both men went falling and on the way down, Miles used his bound hands to get the man's blade from him. Just as he'd remembered, Voice One carried it on the left and he hadn't even had it out of the scabbard all the way before Miles had used his hands free, having sliced the half-rotted ropes with it before grabbing the hilt.

He could hear footsteps from behind so he needed to act fast. He stabbed the man he'd taken down and raised it just in time to block the unseen attacker's weapon. The sound of a scuffle to his right—now a lot closer than ten feet—told him that Bass was making his move as well.

Striking out with his foot, he caught Voice Two off guard and sent him to the ground in a huff. This gave Miles time to gain his own feet and rip the blindfold off with his free hand. Without bothering to check on Bass, he gutted the second man before he could get his bearings.

He took a club to the shoulder then, grunting with the impact. He heard something crack and saw stars. It sent him to his knees, forcing him to drop his sword. The last thing he heard was Bass calling his name—and then nothing…

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Bass turned just as he'd taken down his second clansman. They'd miscalculated the fifth man's distance, however. Before Miles even had time to turn away from his own second opponent, the lead man had gotten too close and had swung his club down. Bass could hear Miles' bone break as it made contact with his shoulder.

He was already running towards them both when the club came down again. "Miles!" he called out, a desperate warning to get him to move, but it was too late. The club connected and Miles went all the way down. Bass grabbed the clansman from behind and used the sword to slit his throat. The man made a gurgling sound and then slumped to the ground.

Bass went to Miles and rolled him over. He was out light a light. _Perfect_. He heard a sound to his left and managed to turn just in time to block a hit to his blind side. The man that Miles had initially taken down was holding his side, but was not yet down for the count.

He managed to disarm Bass and went to strike again. Bass charged him and they both ended up in the dirt. As the warrior fell, his own sword went flying. They fought for a few minutes, but the clansman still had a knife on him. They continued to fight for the weapon—Bass was by far more skilled, but his opponent was younger and had weight and size on his side, despite his injury.

They rolled and Bass lost the upper hand. The other man was now atop him and the knife came down. He was just barely able to catch the guy by the wrist and keep the knife just above its mark. He shoved his attacker's hands to the right with all his strength and the knife went into the ground, just barely slicing the side of his neck.

Bass head butted him and with a flailing arm, found purchase on a fairly large rock. He picked it up and slammed it into the side of the younger man's head. He kept the blows coming until the body above him went slack. Panting, he shoved the unconscious man off of him. Without a thought, he reached for him and snapped his neck. "Try getting up from that," he said with a grunt.

Winded, he got to his feet. Right now, his only thoughts were survival. He went over to the first man he'd taken down. If he was right, that was the guy that had their guns. Panting, he ignored the blood trickling down his neck and rolled him over.

The small knife he'd concealed in his sleeve was still imbedded in the dead man's throat. He picked it up, wiped it on the corpse's shirt and slid it into his boot. Thankfully, Miles had taken the hint about Salem. If it wasn't for their disturbing ability to recall damn near every battle and bar fight they'd ever been in together, they'd probably be dead now.

As it happened, Hartford had been an actual battle—Salem had been a bar brawl gone seriously wrong. The town had been neutral turf and they'd been drinking heavily when a rival militia had shown up. One thing had led to another and the next thing they knew they were on their way out back to be shot. The bar's rules had been simple—weapons outside, but of course the rivals hadn't complied. Bass hadn't really either. He'd ditched his gun, but had kept a small knife hidden in his sleeve just in case. That one had ended up saving their lives in the end.

Bass searched him and found their guns. If these men had been smart enough to use them, the outcome would have been a lot different. As it was, they hadn't and now Bass went up to each of them—including the man whose neck he'd broken and put a bullet in each of their heads, just to be sure.

He grabbed their confiscated sword belts and went back to Miles, fully expecting him to have come around by now. "Come on, time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he said as he went to help him up.

Miles didn't respond. Furrowing his brows and starting to worry, Bass tried again. "Wake up, Miles. We don't have time for this." He slapped his face a few times for good measure.

Nothing. "Dammit," Bass grumbled. They sure as hell couldn't stay around here, so Bass picked up in a fireman's carry and fled towards the wagon. He wanted to put as much distance between them and this warclan as possible.


	2. Bound in Guilt

_**Day 2...**_

Bass paced up and down Gene Porter's front porch. He felt like a caged animal. It had taken him half a day to get back to where their wagon had been stashed and then another day on the road to get back to Willoughby.

In that time, Miles hadn't stirred. He was sick with worry at this point. He'd only been back a few hours and had, of course come directly here. Rachel's father was currently tending to Miles' shoulder. As he waited to find out the doc's diagnoses, he felt the rawness of true fear start to take over.

The front door opened up and he stopped moving. He turned to see Rachel coming out. "How is he?"

"We don't know. He's in a coma. A fucking coma, Bass!" She shoved him as hard as she could, taking him by surprise and almost knocking him flat on his ass. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Rachel—"

"No. No excuses, no bullshit. This is your fault! I didn't even want him to go on this stupid trip with you and now look at what happened. I always _knew_ you'd get him killed one of these days, and you may have finally done it."

When he'd first pulled the wagon up, he'd given them an abridge version of what had happened. Was it his fault? Yes. He knew it and he hated himself for it. But, they'd been hunting a war clan that had been hurting people. You'd have thought he'd have at least gotten brownie points for that one.

As she shouted at him, she continued to slap and shove at him. As much as he hated Rachel, Bass' guilt prevented him from fighting back, or even bothering to block for that matter. He just let her take it out on him.

Gene came out then and Rachel stopped. She looked at her father anxiously, hoping there'd be some news or revelation—something. "All we can do is wait and see," he said. And then, before anyone could react, he raised Miles' gun, which he'd been holding behind his back.

"All you've ever done is hurt my family. Get off my porch. If I ever catch you on my property again, I'll put a bullet in you—and _no one_ will care."

Bass just stared at him, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He clenched his teeth in fury and hurt and then just nodded his understanding before backing away and then going down the porch stairs.

As he left, he didn't notice that Charlie was watching this from within the house from the front window. Her eyes were welled up with tears as she realized that Miles really might never wake up and it was all because he had stupidly followed Bass into tracking a warclan instead of following through with their weekend of drinking, whoring and God knew what else Bass had planned.

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 _ **Day 7…**_

 _Charlie wakes up an hour before dawn. She sees to her immediate needs and then goes into the bedroom at the end of the hallway—the one next to hers. This is where Gene has set up Miles' makeshift hospital room._

 _She checks the glass bottle on the i.v. line. It's almost empty, so she changes it, like her grandfather has taught her. It was quite the battle, but Gene has fought Rachel over her sleeping in here. Miles needs time to heal and she needs real sleep._

 _Her mental health has been fragile ever since the war as it is and staying up all hours will not help that. She needs to be strong for Miles and so she's reluctantly agreed that from midnight on, she will accept Gene's ban on her sitting in here and watching over him._

 _Charlie turns around and sees the window. It had been storming the night before and she could have sworn she'd left it almost closed—just open enough to let a breeze into the room to combat the heat of May. The rain has blown in some._

 _She goes and gets a towel, using it to dry the wooden window sill. She sits down on the chair, still holding it. As soon as her bottom touches the seat, she notices it's a bit damp. She wonders how the rain has blown in that far. She stands and puts the towel down before sitting down once more._

 _She stays there for an hour or so in the quiet of morning, hoping that if she just stares at him long enough, It will creep Miles out and he will open his eyes. Of course, he doesn't and so she stands. It's her turn to cook breakfast and so she might as well get started._

 _As she turns to leave, she notices a bit of mud on the floor. It's slightly smeared, as if someone has tried to clean it up. Curious, she looks under the bed and finds a rag, dried mud now crumbling off of it._

 _The wheels in her brain turning, she goes downstairs and right out the back door. She walks off the deck and down to the soft earth below, her bare feet squishing in the mud. She groans at this, but keeps going._

 _Beneath the windows—one hers, one Miles'—she sees the boot prints. If she's correct (and the tracker in her knows that she is), there's an ass print too—and two handprints on either side of that. She looks up._

 _There's lattice work on the back of the house. Before the blackout, Charlotte Porter had begged her husband to install it. Her vision had been a beautify ivy wall. Without being able to use the hose and the municipal water supply, the hot Texas summers have ruined it, of course. It always comes back, but it never lasts past June. It's in patches as it is._

 _She's heard her grandfather say that he keeps meaning to get rid of it, but he never has. It had been hers, and he finds it hard to let go of anything she loved still. Before she'd died, he used to catch her using bucket after bucket of well water in a vain attempt to keep it green just a little longer._

 _In between the alternating green and brown vines, she sees the telltale signs. There's more mud. Someone's climbed that lattice and had used it to get to the window. She knows right away who that someone must be. Since everything was so wet, he must have slipped on the way back down—hence the ass print, and in the darkness he must not have realized that he'd left quite an impression behind him. Either that or he'd hoped that the rain would wash it away._

 _"What was he doing?" she asks aloud to no one in particular. And then, she remembers the wet chair. He'd probably been soaked by the time he'd gotten inside. He'd obviously tried to erase all evidence of his presence, but in the darkness had missed the rest of that muddy boot print. And, he can't make upholstery dry faster_

 _Why would he pick a night like last night to pop in for a visit? It was a bad storm and not ideal weather for climbing up the lattice. And then, it hits her—he didn't. He must have done this more than once._

 _That night, she lies awake in her bed, waiting. It's not raining—thank god. Her window is open and the windup clock on her nightstand tells her it's just past one in the morning. She's listening carefully and then, she hears him. Considering he's climbing up the back of the house, he's being fairly quiet. If she wasn't waiting and listening specifically for it, she'd have missed it entirely._

 _She waits until she knows he's inside, and then, she waits a bit longer. She pokes her head out the window. It's not that far from hers to Miles. She's a lot more agile than Bass is and can move with more stealth. She makes her way along the lattice. She's curious and for some reason, she wants to see what he's doing without him knowing about it._

 _Within a few minutes, she's peeking through the window. She sees him sink into the chair. His elbows rest on his knees, and despite the fact that his back is to her, she just knows that his chin is resting on folded hands._

 _The truth of what Bass is doing really sinks in. He's not allowed anywhere near the house. When he'd come the day after he'd brought an unconscious Miles home, her mother had gotten the sheriff. He's been told that if he's caught, the charge won't be trespassing. It'll be breaking and entering, which is in clear violation of his pardon._

 _If someone finds him here, he'll be arrested to be sure and he will once more be considered a war criminal. It's not exactly like he's doing a whole lot wrong here, but there are enough people that would gladly attend a second execution that it won't matter._

 _And that's even to say that her grandfather won't make good on his threat. Bass may or may not believe him, but she's not so sure. Gene Porter may not be in love with the idea of Miles marrying his daughter, but it makes her happy and keeps her levelheaded. That is something he cares about very much._

 _Despite these risks to himself, Bass is still here, holding a late-night vigil over his friend. Charlie finds that moving. This is the excuse that her mother would need to see that he's out of their lives once and for all. She's said on more than one occasion that the man deserves a shallow grave, not a pardon. Even if Miles recovers, this is a great way for her to see that happen._

 _"You've gotta awake up, Miles."_

 _His voice breaks Charlie out of her reverie. It's low, as to not be overheard from anyone within and it's shaking. "Come on, man. You-you gotta work with me here. Don't you want your chance to tell me how much of an asshole I am? For not leaving well enough alone?_

 _"Open your eyes, Miles. Just—just open your eyes. I'm so sorry. You were right… we should have just kept going, right to Austin. If I could, I'd take it back—all because I was just itching for a good fight and a little action."_

 _Charlie watches his shoulders shake and his change in posture tells her that he's got his face buried in her his hands. A few ragged breaths later, he's got himself under control._

 _She listens to him talk to Miles, sometimes not catching all of it. He's barely speaking above a whisper now. She catches a lot of apologies—so many she loses counts. Her arms are getting tired—she's lost track of how long she's been out here, but if she doesn't get her butt back in her room soon, she'll probably create an ass print out there to rival Bass' and then he'll know she's been here._

 _She makes her way back to her window. She's almost all the way inside before she hears his voice drifting through. "… I'd better go before I get caught. I'll—I'll see you tomorrow."_

 _Charlie barely has time to get out of sight before he leaves through Miles' window. She watches him climb down and slip away under cover of darkness. She decides then and there not to say anything. She doesn't have it within her to rat him out or stop these visits. As much as her family hates him, she can hear the guilt and loss in Bass' voice. It stays her when loyalty to her family would have her at the very least locking that window to keep him out._


	3. Bound in Grief

_**Day 10…**_

Bass jerked in the chair. He'd dozed off. He'd been up all hours and only catching a cat nap or two during the day ever since he'd brought Miles home. It was starting to take a toll on him and he hadn't been able to stay awake.

A glance out the window told him it was almost dawn. Already, the sky was beginning to lighten and the stars fade out. He looked around to make sure he was leaving no evidence of his having been in the house. Seeing nothing, he headed back to the window.

He was reaching up to close it a little from behind him when the door to Miles' room opened and Charlie entered. She froze and locked eyes with him. He'd just been busted.

"Shit!" The word escaped him as he dropped down. He just knew she'd wake the household, so he'd let go of the lattice. He hit the ground hard, rolling as he did so. It hurt, but he was sure he'd not injured anything. He might be sore for a day or two, but he'd live. He heard her voice in a loud whisper. "Monroe, wait!"

He didn't take the time to look; otherwise he'd have seen her leaning out the window. He kept going. If he was smart, he'd hightail it out of town before Miles' family had a chance to complain to the sheriff.

And yet, as Bass entered the small loft above the bar that he called home, he couldn't bear to do it—not until Miles woke up; not until he could tell him how sorry he really was. Once he'd had that chance, he fully intended on disappearing. Gene was right; all he did was hurt people. It would be best for everyone if he went away, but not until he knew his brother would be okay.

He flopped down on his sorry excuse for a bed. It was little more than a mattress on the floor—and a lumpy one at that. He stared at the ceiling. The light of the rising sun was streaming in through the filthy window now. As he tried to fall asleep, he knew one thing was for certain; he would not be able to go back.

If he tried, he'd find the window locked. Or even better, the barrel of a gun would waiting for him. He'd stick around and lay low for a while. Hopefully, if Miles woke up, he'd hear some news about it in town.

 _ **The very next morning…**_

Bass woke up to find Charlie standing over him. Her hands were on her hips and she had an unreadable expression on her face—well not quite unreadable. She looked annoyed with him, but not angry. Not as angry as he'd have expected at any rate.

"Where were you last night?" she asked.

Bass blinked a few times to clear his vision. His eyes were still bleary with sleep and he was a bit hung over. With no chance in hell of successfully gaining access to Miles the previous night, he'd just gotten drunk instead. "Um, here?" he replied as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes and feign innocence.

"No, I mean _where were you_? You didn't visit him last night."

Complete shock and confusion sank in. "I… you…? What?"

Charlie rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, I've known about it. I figured it out the morning after the storm."

"And you _didn't_ rat me out?" That was unexpected indeed.

Charlie merely shrugged. "Why did you risk it?" She asked. She knew the answer, but maybe that was why she hadn't said anything about his haunting of Miles' room. She wanted to hear it from him first.

Bass dragged a hand through his hair. He'd just been put in a very uncomfortable position. He didn't think she'd believe the truth. She'd said more than once that he was just an empty mask behind a selfish, sociopathic killer. She'd never buy it that he'd risked it because he actually had feelings, just like anyone else.

And, even if she did believe him, the idea of confessing his inner thoughts and feelings with Mini-Miles did not sit well with him. But, she could have made his already miserable life a hell of a lot more miserable with just a few words and for some unfathomable reason, she hadn't. For that, maybe he did owe her a little honesty.

"Because he's all I got left, and I wanna be there when he wakes up—or lets go," he told her.

The way her expression softened just a little told Bass that she'd miraculously decided to take what he'd said at face value and neither question it or expect him to explain it further. It also made him very aware that she was standing in his shitty little excuse for an apartment and that he was quite undressed under the thin sheet. _Don't think about being naked, dummy!_

He felt something twitch which ought not to be twitching at a moment like this. He had to shift to conceal that fact from her now. The _last_ thing he wanted was for her to catch onto that fact. Bass watched in relief as Charlie headed towards the door. She was going before he had a chance to embarrass the hell out of them both.

She turned right before she left. "Don't say so late next time—they'll catch you."

She was gone before he had a chance to react or respond. Bass flopped back down onto his flat pillow and slowly let out a breath. He was pretty sure she'd just given him the green light to keep up his nightly visits. What he didn't understand was why.

 _ **Day 15…**_

Bass had only been in the chair next to Miles' bed for a few minutes when a commotion could be heard below. Someone was banging on the front door. He froze in place, momentarily thinking he'd been betrayed.

It wouldn't have made sense though. He'd been coming every night since Charlie had given him the okay and she knew that he'd taken her up on that unspoken offer. Twice he'd turned to see her adjusting the window after he left. It was hard to get the damn thing to move from outside.

As such, he was positive that she'd been waking up right before he left so she could make sure there was nothing that could point to his having been there. What he didn't know was that Charlie had actually made it a point to stay up and listen to his one-sided conversations. If he had, he wouldn't have spoken at all.

Both times they'd locked eyes and then she'd offered him a silent wave of farewell. If she'd been determined to reveal his secret, she'd have done it that first time she'd caught him. She wouldn't have waited a week. One thing that could be said of the youngest Matheson was that she was honest to a fault.

If she didn't want him to keep sneaking in, she'd have just told him. No, this was probably just someone needing Gene's help in the middle of the night. As the only doctor in town, it was bound to happen from time to time. Either way, he felt the need to escape. If Gene was up, the others could be too. Rachel might take a moment to check on Miles. He was halfway out the window when the door opened.

He silently cursed. So much for not getting caught. "Not that way!" Charlie's voice said in a harsh whisper. "Neighbor behind us saw you sneak up."

He ducked back inside and out of the line of sight. Sure enough voices could be heard below the window. "…saw someone climb up here…"

Rachel's voice could be heard with the sheriff. Bass looked at Charlie. _What now?_ He mouthed.

She motioned for him to follow her. When he was right behind her, she turned and whispered in his ear. "Deputy Dipshit and Grandpa are downstairs. Follow me and be quiet."

She led him out of the room. They paused long enough for him to quietly close the door. Making a face when it the sound of the latch clicked. She grabbed his hand and practically dragged him into the next room.

Charlie closed them into her room and they waited by the door. "How the hell did they see me?" he whispered.

"Hal's old and doesn't sleep well at night. He must have gone out for a smoke when he saw something on the lattice. He got his nephew to wake up the sheriff, thinking we were getting robbed. That clan is still running loose. The sheriff said the town raids have increased—mostly in and out stuff but they killed a guy last week over in Crockett."

"And I'm the bad guy for trying to track them," he murmured. He winced the second he said it. "Sorry."

Charlie shushed him then, instinctively covering his lips with her fingers. Footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Bass pulled her hand away, grabbing her gently by the wrist. He didn't immediately release her.

He looked down at her, feeling as if he was in a daze. He watched in slow motion as she looked up at him, the moonlight coming in through the window offering just enough light for him to see her. Their gazes locked for an endless moment. What happened then was likely a byproduct of too little sleep and having them both been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past weeks. Without a sane thought left in his mind, Bass bent at the neck and pressed his mouth to hers.

He was gentle and didn't press things further. In fact, he was about to pull back and apologize when Charlie suddenly slid her hand up to the back of his neck and moved her lips back against his. Instead of letting her go, He wrapped his other arm around her back and pulled her closer, his other still loosely wrapped around her wrist.

She sighed and he used that as the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue skimming over her lips just before delving in. Charlie wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed herself to him, molding her body up against his. Bass finally released her hand, letting it fall to his chest as he ran his own down her ribcage to her waist.

It was then that it registered in his mind what she was wearing. In the rush to avoid discovery, he hadn't given it any notice before now. He'd gone from oblivious to hyperaware of the fact that she'd just worn a thin tank top and her panties to bed.

Something in him snapped. His hands roamed of their own volition and he was suddenly desperate to learn every curve of her body as quickly as he could. Charlie arched under him like a cat, allowing his exploration, the eagerness in her kiss giving him all the encouragement he needed. He boldly found the hem of her top and pulled it over her head.

Charlie tossed it aside and reached for him again. They'd just come back together when someone knocked on her door. They broke apart and just stared at one another. Charlie's chest was heaving, each breath coming in soft pants. Bass swallowed nervously, his own pulse racing and feeling like he'd just run the Boston Marathon.

The knocking continued and the spell between them was broken. With a jerk of her head, Charlie came back down to reality. "Yeah?"


	4. Bound in Comfort

_**When we last left our superheroes...**_

"Charlie? Are you alright?" Rachel's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Yeah. Just a second," she said. She looked around for her tank top, now starting to panic, but it was not to be found in the darkness. Instead, she grabbed a small robe from where it hung on the back of her door—if it could be called a robe, really.

She shoved her arms through it and wrapped the material around herself, not bothering with the belt. It came only halfway down her thighs, clearly a garment that had not meant to conceal much of anything, although it would have to do for now. Bass found himself briefly wondering just whom she'd worn it for previously.

 _Not your business, idiot. And not important right now._ He let Charlie shove him behind the door before she opened up a few inches. "What's going on?" she asked, clearing her throat before speaking. In a performance worthy of an Oscar, she played the part of someone that had just woken up brilliantly.

"Hal Browning thought he saw someone sneak into the house from one of the windows," her mother's voice explained.

"Really? Find anything?"

"Just some footprints out back. You're okay? You're sure you're alone?"

Charlie responded by swinging the door open further. Bass flattened himself behind the door as much as he could. "Be my guess to double check. Does the sheriff here have to keep staring at me in my pajamas though? It's weird."

"Sorry ma'am," he stammered. Bass had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Leave it to Charlie.

"Just stay put until we give the all clear," the sheriff said.

"I'd have still been in bed—staying put, if you hadn't banged on my door. Did you search the house?"

"Of course we did," he replied, his voice betraying his annoyance at her impertinent question.

Charlie shrugged it off. "Well, Hal was probably seeing things," she said, dismissing the idea of an intruder entirely. "You _know_ how he gets, mom. Last week, he could have sworn he saw Martha Beverly's cow walking on its hind legs."

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound upset," her mother asked.

"I'm just tired. It's been a long couple of weeks and I just got woken up in the middle of the night because the old man behind us is a whack-job."

"Well, I'm sorry to have bothered, you—and that's rude. He's not a whack-job. He's just old and a little… confused."

"Grandpa was trimming the grass the other day. It's dark. The footprints you saw are probably his," she suggested wearily. "Anyway, if it's okay with everybody, I'm going back to bed. If there really was an intruder, you'd have found him by now."

"Goodnight," Rachel said evenly as Charlie closed the door in her face. She leaned up against it and breathed a sigh of relief. Bass just stared at her. He'd actually heard her just cover for him—quite convincingly, in fact. There was obviously a lot more to her than he'd first thought. Honest or not, Charlotte Matheson was one hell of a liar when she needed to be.

They waited in silence until they heard the sheriff and his deputy say goodbye and leave. Charlie went to the window and looked out. Sure enough, both men went to take one last look at the soft earth beneath the lattice.

They could be heard agreeing that her thoughts on the matter were probably right and then they disappeared around the corner. She walked back over to where Bass was still standing. "The coast is clear," she whispered.

"I should probably go. Thank you." He went to move, but was stopped in his tracks when Charlie flung herself at him.

Their mouths met again and any thoughts he had of making a clean getaway went out of his head. Her robe had come apart and he slid it off her shoulders. His hands found her breasts. He cupped them gently and ran his thumbs over her hardening nipples, wringing a satisfied purr from her.

Charlie tore at his shirt, yanking it up and over his head. Their kiss broke off just long enough for him to shrug out of it. She slid her hands slowly down his chest and stomach, eagerly beginning to work his belt loose.

Now desperate, Bass slipped his thumbs inside the elastic waistband of her panties and worked them down her hips. She stepped out of them and led him over to the bed. She crawled backwards towards while he kissed her and crept after her.

Looming over her, Bass slid a hand down her neck, slowly working between her breasts and down her belly, not stopping until his palm touched the curls between her legs. He worked her gently, finding her soaked and ready for him.

The excitement of being inadvertent co-conspirators and almost having been caught fueled them and once it had started, there was no stopping. Charlie reached for his pants again, unzipping them and slipping her hand inside. She wrapped her small hand around his throbbing erection and begins to slide her hand up and down its length.

"Now," she said against his lips, all the while tugging at his pants with her free hand, wanting better access to him.

Bass yanked them down enough to give him room and settled between her legs. He stopped with his tip of him resting just against her entrance and then broke his mouth free to kiss down the side of her neck.

Without warning, he thrust forward until he was fully embedded inside her hot and willing body. Charlie gasped and tightened her limbs around him. Bass took this as a go ahead and pulled back, thrusting again swiftly. When the bed made an audible squeak, they both froze.

He looked down at Charlie and she offered him a look of apology before grabbing his head down so she could kiss him. The bed limiting their movements, Bass changed positions slightly and hooked an elbow under her knee to open her up for him. Remaining buried inside her, he began to move in slow circles, grinding against her.

The stimulation against the sensitive bundle of nerves outside her sheath had her grinding right back. When she bit her lip to keep from crying out, he knew he'd hit the right spot. He remained there and they began to rock together, both trying to keep quiet. Charlie began to writhe under him. Between the friction outside and the fullness within, she was revving up quickly.

Despite how little he could move without the bed making too much noise, he was surprised how quickly he began to work up to his own climax. When Charlie's pants began to turn into soft moans, he smothered them with his mouth. He could feel her letting go as she tensed up and her walls clamped around him like a vice.

There was no time to do more than ride it out. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth again, he rucked forward and came hard, shuddering as he shot his seed deep within her. Something about having to keep so quiet made it all the more intense and he kissed her with a desperation he hadn't felt in years.

Their foreheads touching and limbs tangled, they were both panting and hot, wearing one another's sweat. Bass brought his hands up and brushed her hair back. Knowing he was crushing her, he rolled onto his side, still buried within and taking her with him.

Lips moving together tenderly, they stayed that way for some time while they floated back down to earth. With their breathing had slowed and he'd softened, Bass pulled out. This hadn't been something he'd ever intended on happening (despite having recalled her image more than once in the privacy of his own bedroom) and now that it had, he didn't know what to say or think. "Charlie, I—"

"You don't have to say anything," she told him as he got up and began to pull his pants up. No matter what this may or may not mean, he couldn't be caught here regardless. She shoved aside her own confusion before continuing. "I don't expect—"

It was his turn to interrupt. He silenced her by leaning over and kissing her. He'd meant to just get up and get while the getting was good, but she'd sounded hurt by that. He didn't know what this was, but did know what it _wasn't._ It wasn't just another typical opportune fuck, at least not unless that's all she wanted it to be.

He ended up stretched back out next to her in bed for a while, his arms wrapped around her. They went back and forth from gentle kisses and just staring at each other- Charlie stroking his face while he ran his hands gently through her hair. And for other long minutes, her head rested on his bare chest and they dozed together, taking what comfort they could from one another.

When the sky began to lighten, he got dressed and reluctantly left out her window, almost slipping when he heard her make a snarky comment about being a bit old to be playing the part of Romeo.


	5. Bound in Hope

_**Day 29…**_

With having been spotted, Bass was once more convinced that climbing the lattice and sneaking in was a very bad idea. He'd gone a few days without showing up, nervously waiting for news of Miles. He had no way of contacting Charlie without drawing attention to himself—as far as her family knew, he'd just been skulking around his place and hadn't been back over the past month.

The third day after they shared the night, Charlie finally showed up. He could tell from the way that she'd carried himself that she was nervous, a little hurt even. She didn't address what had happened between them, instead telling him that Hal had proclaimed to anyone that would listen that he knew what he saw and that he'd prove he wasn't crazy.

That confirmed his suspicions that making an attempt to get in again would only result in getting caught. There was more to it now than his own safety. If her family found out that Charlie had been not only aware of his presence, but had helped to conceal it, she could very well find herself banished as well. She didn't deserve that.

Eventually, Bass had gotten tired of her nervousness—she'd never been nervous around him, even when she'd had reasons to be. He'd asked if she was okay, and she'd confessed then that she hadn't known what to expect from him after that night. Although she'd figured he'd be absent, she was concerned that it had as much to do with what they'd done than one senile old man.

Bass had simply kissed her in response and that had been that. There'd been no discussion over it. He didn't know what to say about it. Maybe this was just their way of grieving or holding on. Maybe it was more. He didn't want to risk screwing anything up by saying it and for some reason; she was willing to allow it.

She'd come faithfully every day since to tell him that there'd been no change. Sometimes they had sex while she was there. At other times, they just talked. She couldn't always stay for very long, but when she could, she'd stay for hours.

Charlie now lounged on his mattress, propping herself up on one elbow and watching with appreciation as he went to grab a canteen. He took a drink before handing it down to her. It was now June and his loft was hot as hell. That they'd just had rough enough sex to have moved the mattress several feet away from its original location was not helping them beat the heat at all.

"So, I was thinking," she said as she raised the water to her lips and drank greedily. "Right after supper, Grandpa goes on rounds to check on a few patients. Mom's been going with him lately. If we were quick about it, I could probably sneak you in. You'd have to hide out in my room before Mom goes to bed, but…"

She let him fill in the blanks. He flopped down onto the mattress next to her and took the canteen back, drinking deeply and finishing it off. "How would I get out again unseen?" he asked.

"You just have to go before it gets light."

He thought about this for a while. "Do you realize how pissed they'd be at you if they found out?"

"Like they wouldn't be otherwise," she said as she gestured to their nude forms. "You don't have to. It was just a thought."

He shook his head. "No. That's not it."

Bass didn't know how to explain how her suggestion had affected him, so he showed her instead, beginning slowly, tenderly pulling her into his arms. It was a lot to risk for him and he was moved by it in ways he couldn't describe with words.

That night, Charlie got him inside easily enough. Of course, she hadn't mentioned that he'd basically been waiting alone in her room from the moment Rachel and Gene returned. It was customary for her to sit with her mother in Miles' room for a bit before going to bed, so she couldn't exactly change that pattern now. Already, her family was curious where she went during the day.

Much later, Charlie came into the room. This particular evening wasn't following their usual pattern. Her mother and grandfather were still up; their muffled voices could be heard arguing in the next room. When Gene came to the door, Bass barely had time to scramble under the bed.

What he overheard left him feeling shattered. It had been a month and there'd been no change. They'd been working his muscles, trying to keep them from atrophy, but it was clear to the doctor that if Miles didn't wake up soon, he wouldn't at all.

Miles was wasting away and without the benefit of pre-blackout care his body would start to shut down. The fact was that even if he woke up now, in all likelihood, he wouldn't be the same and would never leave that bed.

Bass listened as Gene told Charlie that it was time to let Miles go. And then, the doctor went on that Charlie needed to talk to her mother and get her to see to reason. She argued with him for some time before finally agreeing to work on her in the morning. There was no hope and Miles was barely alive as it was.

When he heard the door close, Bass came out from under the bed, but didn't rise. He sat huddled on the floor as it all came crashing down around him. Miles may still be breathing, but he was already gone. Rachel had been right all along; he'd succeeded in getting him killed.

Rachel did not leave Miles' room that night. Bass and Charlie remained sitting there next to the bed, eventually falling asleep together. When Charlie went to check to make sure things were clear, she found her family awake together in the kitchen. She would have to do no convincing. Gene had managed to get through his daughter's stubbornness. They'd agreed to give it a few more days and then would let her father do what he had to do.

Charlie went back to her room to tell Bass that he would not be leaving anytime soon. Maybe it was mean to be; if they were to countdown the days until they lost him, they'd do it together. She did her best to sneak food up to him and found excuses to seclude herself so that there'd be some break in the monotony of waiting up there alone.

 _ **Day 3**_

They would give it this last night. If Miles didn't wake up by dawn, a decision would be made. Rachel hadn't slept in days and so, Gene had finally taken the choice from her. He'd sedated her and with Charlie's help as put her to bed.

When Charlie was sure that Gene was asleep and her mother still down for the count,, she lead Bass into Miles' room one last time. He wasn't there to watch and wait; he was there to say goodbye. She would have her chance in the morning before Gene gave him an overdose of painkillers to help him let go. She squeezed his shoulder as he sank into the chair and quietly left—he'd want privacy for this and this time, she would not listen.

He sat and stared at his brother for a while, unable to get past how frail he looked in that bed now. He'd lost so much weight over the past weeks. Gene was right about one thing—their efforts to keep him nourished were failing. In another world, they could keep him alive indefinitely. They could do brain scans and see if Miles was still in there somewhere. But now, they couldn't do anything more than watch him turn to skin and bone.

"God, I'm so sorry, Miles," he sobbed. He's said those words so many times since this had happened, but he'd been holding onto a small sliver of hope that they'd be heard up until now. His eyes were red and brimming as he tried to get it all out. "I should have listened to you—about everything. I don't know how I always get everything so wrong.

"I was so stupid, thinking we could just track those assholes and put them down. Like we could save the day again. I just—I just wanted to do something—make up for all the bullshit by doing something decent.

"I hated just sitting around and I thought this would be something worthwhile, since I couldn't figure out how to move on. We should have kept going, like you said. If I'd have kept my trap shut, we'd have had our weekend of drinking and you'd be married and… I'm just so sorry.

He began to apologize for anything and everything he could think of. There were so many wrongs, so many past regrets over the years. He initially hadn't known where to start, but once he had, he didn't know where to stop. He apologized for things that hadn't even been his fault.

"I wish we'd have talked about all this more. We never did—we just tried to pretend all those years didn't happen. But, you were right… You were right about me when I wanted to go east, and you were right that day on the road…"

"Of course I was right, dick. I always am…"

The voice was so quiet that Bass was convinced he'd imagined it. He looked up, having buried his head in his hands and saw Miles there; his eyes open in small slits. "God, you're an over- emotional fuck," he rasped, thus confirming the impossible. Bass wasn't hearing things. He'd actually spoken.

His jaw dropped. Eyes wide, he swiped at them with the back of his hand "Miles?"

"You were expecting someone else?"

Bass lets out a laugh. Right now he didn't give a damn where he was or that he wasn't supposed to be here. "Shit. Shit!"

"Always had a way with words, asshole."

Before he could move to go get someone, Charlie came into the room. "Have you lost your mind? Grandpa's gonna hear you. He'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"At this point, I could care less," Bass said as he willed his body into motion. He yanked her into the room and shoved her towards the bed so she could see for herself.

"Hey Charlie," Miles said. "Wait, why's Gene gonna shoot him? You know, besides the fact that he's a dick and all."

"Miles?" She burst into tears as she sank to her knees next to the bed.

"First whiny boy here, and now you? What is it with you people?" he asked. He tried to chuckle at his own joke, but it hurt. He let out a groan and closed his eyes for a second, as if he was trying to force his body to not hurt.

"Bass, can you… I've gotta…"

"Fuck it, I'll wake him myself."

They heard him go down the hall. Obviously, Gene had overheard them after all and had been prepared for Bass' intrusion. "Put the damn gun down and get your ass in there, you crabby old bastard. _He's awake."_

Bass and Charlie stood in the corner of the room while Gene did his job. As he was being examined, Miles asked for Rachel, only to be told that in all likelihood she'd be down for hours yet. Gene still couldn't believe that Miles had woken so abruptly. Other than a splitting headache and being as weak as a newborn kitten, he seemed to be in fairly good shape, all things considered. The road to recovery would be a long one, but seeing him talking and alert, it no longer seemed impossible.

First things always being first, Gene determined that if he was up to it, they needed to get something in his patient's stomach. After demanding a brief explanation of why and how Bass was there and listening to Charlie defend his presence with all the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cups, the old man went downstairs to prepare some broth.

They both turned back to Miles, who'd been watching them in the low light of the lamp that flickered across the room. "No way… The two of you are fucking?"

"Miles…" Bass began calmly, holding his hands up, as if somehow that would distract from the bald truth of it.

"Don't even try to deny it. I know you—I know that lost little puppy dog look you always get when you think you've met 'The One.' And it's practically written all over your face—and it's kind of pathetic." He threw his eyes heavenward. "I died. I died and I woke up in hell didn't I?"

"Wait, 'The One?' What the hell is he talking about?" Charlie suddenly asked, looking at Bass. With either her mother or Gene up at all times, they'd spent the past several days in each other's pockets, and yet they still hadn't talked about it.

Bass' facial expression started off as embarrassed and then shifted to apologetic before finally settling on a look of pure terror—all in a matter of seconds. How Charlie could ever have thought he was an empty mask was now beyond her. The changes were subtle, but they were there indeed.

"I—um. I… You know, I'll leave the two of you to talk. I'm just gonna go see if I can wake your mom up—so she can go ahead and shoot me and…"

"Sit down, ass hat," Miles snaps weakly. "I've just been in a coma for a month. Can you at least let me make it a few hours before one of you tries to kill the other?"

After seeing Miles eat his broth, all the while complaining that it was whiskey-free, Bass and Charlie left him to get some rest. Just talking for a little while and eating had tired him out. Bass headed down the hall to leave, but flight was abruptly ended when Charlie pulled him into her room.

"You know that they'll figure this out—whatever this is if they find me here, right?" The sun was beginning to rise and if he stayed much longer, there'd be no leaving this room without being discovered.

"Yeah, he's gonna have nothing to do but gossip for weeks to come. I'm pretty sure it'll be common knowledge by the end of the day. And what do you mean 'whatever this is?' Didn't you hear Miles? 'The One,' remember," she teased.

Bass gave it up then. "You most certainly are," he told her with all the seriousness he could muster as he shrugged out of his shirt. If he was going to be shot for this by the same time tomorrow, he be damned if he didn't first get to find out just how much her bed could squeak…


	6. Bound to Happen

_**Three months later…**_

A long awaited wedding is finally taking place. This time, the so-called bachelor party has taken place in the small bar below Bass' loft. The bride had declared that she wasn't letting her groom out of her sight—especially with the immature idiot that he's named as his best man. The very same man who always seems to be leading her man into one scrape or another.

The one church in town that has survived the blackout, the Andover Clan and the Patriots alike has been decorated with mums and late summer roses. Every possible door is propped open to allow the late morning breeze in. So far, it's had kept the temperature at bay, but the priest is starting to worry that if they don't get this show on the road soon, it will become unbearable.

Bass glances over at Charlie. She wears a simple dress that her mother has picked out for the occasion. He's never seen her in one before and so far, he likes what he sees. It's was long and dyed light purple—the cloth a product of the plains. The linen skirt billows with the breeze blowing down the nave from where the Narthex doors are open.

With the sun shining through the stained glass, casting colorful beams of light all around her, she looks beautiful and it takes his breath away. Her hair is pinned up, something he knows she hates. She'd griped, but she's done it all the same. Today isn't about her and so she's been bathed, polished and dressed like a lady—and looks radiant. In her hands, she holds a simple bouquet of three roses. She fidgets with it every so often as she waits with feigned patience.

Charlie feels Bass' eyes on her and so she looks up. He too, has put forth some effort for the occasion. As far as she was concerned, he doesn't clean up half bad, either. He'd at least made an attempt to tame his unruly curls—with mixed results and he's even trimmed his beard.

With full suits being a thing of distant memory, he's managed to find a pair of decent slacks that aren't too horribly worn and has donned the post-blackout version of a dress shirt. He's even given in to Miles' badgering and is wearing the tie that had been forced upon him. The only thing he hasn't backed down on was boots—but at least he's cleaned them up a bit.

Charlie smiles at this. She has her own boots hidden beneath her skirt. She'd tried the sandals her mother had gotten for her—really. She hadn't been able to make it across the bedroom without tripping, and so had tossed them into the back of the closet and has worn what was comfortable.

The breeze catches her skirt and lifts it a little. The smirk that Bass offers her tells Charlie that she'd been busted—not that he won't have figured it out eventually. After all, he'll probably be the one to remove her dress later.

At last, the piano begins to play. Miles slowly makes his way over to where Bass stands. He's a bit unsteady, but he's been coming back little by little. He works with Gene every day at rehabilitating his body after weeks of disuse and has even been sparring with Bass for a few minutes here and there when his strength allows.

The music changes and everyone turns so they can watch Rachel make her way down the aisle on her father's arm. Throughout the ceremony, the best man and maid of honor share stolen glances, all the while doing their best to pay attention to the priest's words.

The best man has a secret burning a hole in his pocket. He's waited until Miles had at least half a chance of breaking his nose before asking permission. Fair was fair, after all. After convincing him to go on that stupid raid, it was the least he could do.

Much to his surprise, Miles hasn't even tried. Instead, he'd clapped him on the shoulder and told him that if he could actually manage to get his independent niece to say yes, then the couple has his blessing. That and they were the ones that would have to convince her mother and grandfather to accept it. He's refusing to touch that with a ten foot pole.

Bass has decided that a united front was needed for that one, so he plans on asking her later tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough for them to rally themselves for that battle. He wants her to enjoy the reception later on and then he'll wait for the right moment.

The vows are spoken, the union is blessed and the groom is finally told that he may kiss his bride. Bass and Charlie follow them outside, hand in hand. In a moment of wickedness, Charlie sticks her hand in his pants pocket, intending on copping a quick feel—just to mess with him, of course.

Instead, she feels something else. Not knowing how to react, she pulls her hand out as if it's been burned and looks up at him. He can read the question in his eyes as if she'd said it aloud. The gathering is distracted for the time being, and so he whisks her off to the side. At the top of the church's stone staircase, there is a small alcove garden. It is simple—just a shrine to the Virgin Mary, a bench and a few small trees and flowers. It does offer them privacy, however.

"Will you?" he asks and then holds his breath. Bass' heart pounds in his chest and he's suddenly lightheaded (probably from the fact that he's not breathing) He'd had this whole thing he'd wanted to say—he'd been working on it for almost two weeks, but for the life of him, he can't remember a single word of it right now.

Charlie nods, looking equally nervous. Bass sucks in a breath. "Holy shit... You said yes," he murmurs in disbelief. He kisses her. As he does so, Charlie slides her hand back into his pocket and works the ring onto her finger with one hand. She also manages to touch something else and now she has no doubt as to how happy her answer had made him.

Their mouths tangled, he pushes her deeper into the alcove and up against the stone wall of the church. Her hands come up to cup his face, her new status as a bride-to-be now shining in the light filtering down through the trees above them.

They are interrupted by the sound of someone clearing his throat. The break apart and slowly turned to see the disapproving frown of the priest. His arms are crossed over his chest, his robes only making the expression he wears seem more severe.

"Sorry, Padre," Bass says as he tried to keep a straight face. Maybe it was all those years of being forced to go to Sunday School, but the annoyed glare he's just received is more than enough to cool his ardor—for now.

"The reception is that way," the priest says, jacking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the way they'd come. "Please make sure to see me for confession—and to reserve the church for the wedding—sooner, rather than later, preferably."

"Yes, Father," Charlie says and then purses her lips to fight the bubble of laughter that threatens to escape. She grabs her fiancé by the hand and lets him lead her out of the alcove so they can hurry up and catch up with the others. Everyone is already at the bar for the reception and they will be missed if they don't show up soon.

They manage to sneak back amongst the wedding guests before the festivities start. No one has been the wiser to their absence. Well, no one other than the priest and Miles.

The end…


End file.
